Posts filed under ‘storytelling’

This morning I posted over at Canadian Writers Who Are Christian as I usually do once a month. Here it is:

In his time, William Shakespeare knew a thing or two about the stage, but curiously, a thing or two about life as well. He wrote:

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

You may not think you’re on a stage, but really you are. While you might not be acting to earn your wages, people still watch what you do, how you behave.

Think of all the people who have been part of your life for a short or long time. Friends who seemed to disappear from your circle when they moved away or when life circumstances changed for one of you and you were no longer able to spend time together. Or a friend died and you seemed cut off from the family since you were merely a friend and not family. Many exits and entrances indeed.

Continuing on our tour of Sainte-Marie among the Hurons from the bus trip a short few weeks ago.

Even our well-versed guide was not sure about what these waterways were meant to do– and it wasn’t to bring the canoes into the settlement from the outside. That would have taken too long. Might it have been for irrigation? Did they have gardens they needed to water?

This is one enormous canoe. How many people would paddle in this one?

I don’t think I’d want to skin this critter. You’ll recognize it by the stripe.

Fox pelt?

Dressed in the black robes of the priest and posing with two members of our bus group.

Looking into the courtyard

More canoes, birch bark, I think.

Pastor Peter Kuhnert at the mission. Other members from the bus trip stop to talk.

Ruby is thankful for her washing machine at home. Scrubbing clothing on a washboard is a lot more work. On the other hand, there would be no French women along on this mission. Did the men do the laundry here?

Tour guide Emily was open to our questions and answered willingly with what she knew.

The chapel where the priests led services for the Hurons and other French people who had come to work. See the vestments on the left, the elaborate altar cloths and candles. Now what was it that they put in that little door on the altar? Hmm. Oh, I remember, it was the communion bread.

There was a hearth in this room and a dirt floor, more comfortable for the Hurons. The priest would put his robe on out front so the people knew there was no trickery, and the priest would face the people, not the altar, to lead the service.

Whereas the priests were willing to suffer cold and discomfort in following Christ, the Wendat people preferred warmth and comfort.

Another costumed guide, but I cannot remember what the workers were called. Can anyone fill in this piece of information? One of the French workers, anyway.

There came a day that some of the Wendat people wouldn’t put up with the Christian interlopers anymore, and they tortured and killed Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalamonte. When the mission was burned to the ground by the Jesuits on their departure, they took along the bones of the two men and left them in Montreal for a time. The bones have been reburied here in the place where they did their mission work.

There were Huron people who thought their life was better since the Jesuits had come, but obviously there were frictions within the Wendat.

No fancy candelabras, but these stands did the job. Vestments were quite colourful.

Here’s the longhouse where Autumn waited to tell us about the Huron people and their way of living. Sounds like women had a lot of power. A young bride could accept the gifts of someone courting but reject the young man if he didn’t provide for her. She could keep the gift even if she rejected him.

Watch out for the smoke, but when you’re inside closer to the fire, it’s not as bad. Still maybe we returned home smelling a bit like we’d been in a smoky place. It was certainly in my nose awhile afterwards. Would I have gotten used to it if I were a native girl? Probably.

Autumn, the second guide, dressed in native women’s wear. She told us a lot about the women of that time.

Trying to remember, but I think the long house was more of a winter home. Am I correct on that? And the teepee structure below was more for summer. I think the long house would be warmer with all those people sharing the space, but a woman would still be given privacy for childbirth.

One of the letters by a priest in 1633, written by hand, of course. More of these in the main building of the Museum.

After a scrumptious hot meal prepared by Mrs. Bell and some helpers, we had time to look around, get another group photo. Then a bus ride over to the shrine.

Our travelling group for the day with Marjorie in the middle

The Martyr’s Shrine. It looked rather imposing and glorious in the sun. The shrine was built in 1926. There’s much to see here.

A certain stained glass window of the Wendat chief teaching Brébeuf about living in this land.

We had our Sunday service in the Filion Centre on the basement level of the church. The message was more of a reflection and discussion on how the tour had affected us and what was particularly impressing to us. I thought how brave Brébeuf was to come to this land and then to live with a native family for months to learn their language.

At the close of worship, hymn books were gathered and we boarded the bus for the ride home. We’d been fortunate to have good weather and awesome tour guides.

Recently I marked the date of my friend’s birthday, September 2nd, though she died eight months ago. I posted one of my favourite photos of her on my Facebook page.

Her own Facebook page is still up and there was a reminder of her birthday— which I could never forget. And her voice is still on their home answering machine. It wrings at the heart. It’s hard when a friend dies. This was a friend I’ve known since early childhood.

On my Facebook page that day, I received many virtual hugs from others who have known grief too, and those were much appreciated. Yet not all reactions to grief are similar.

Some say, “Keep busy.” Others say, “Move on,” as if the loss were trivial. And while I know that one must keep putting one foot in front of another, I recognize that grief is something that one has to deal with. Grief is hard work. I’ve seen friends struggle with the death of a baby and another who is grieving the death of her husband who was just as much a friend. I will offer a hug and a listening ear, knowing this is a difficult time and a grief I do not know. Read more here.

As mentioned in Part 1 of Canadian Canoe Museum, there’s so much to see and learn here that one could spend most of a day here.

This sign says, in part,

Missionaries, beginning with the Jesuits in the 1600s, regularly used canoes to reach the remote parts of Canada… they cheerfully accepted the rigours of life on the trail.

A canoe that folds. Imagine that! I suppose it would help where there is limited storage space.

Here’s a closed-in canoe, somewhat like a kayak in appearance. See the wooden seat, like a lawn chair, and the attached oar. Perhaps only for leisure and not a working canoe.

A canoe, with not one, but two sails. The sails would catch the wind and it looks like they could be moved to do just that.

A courting canoe, with cushy pillows for the pair, and music too. See the on-board Victrola?

A close-up of the music machine. I think the courting couple would want to go out on calm waters, otherwise the record player and cushions could get wet. Imagine the courting couple out on the water of a calm lake and they’re listening to their favourite music as they paddle.

In another canoe, a similar type of record player, without the amplifier. We had records like this in a black box gramophone.

Look at this sleek canoe with the cushioned seat. Pretty classy.

And the very last canoe we saw named for someone special– it’s a good name.

There we are at the end of the canoe museum. I stopped at the gift shop to look around. I came home with two books, one to read to my granddaughters and one about storytelling. Love the children’s picture book story, One Dog Canoe, by Mary Casanova, illustrated by Ard Hoyt. I also discovered that one story in the book, Mugged by a Moose, ed. Matt Jackson, was written by a Waterloo Region author, Leslie Bamford, whom I happen to know.

We read about the museum in the Kawartha Visitor 2014 Summer Vacation Guide and right away it grabbed my interest—a museum about canoes. We weren’t about to find one of those in our community of southwestern Ontario. Curious, I persuaded my husband that we should go there the day after our trip to Lang Pioneer Village. So we set out for Peterborough to find this place and were delighted with the offerings there.

Who would have thought there were so many kinds of canoes? I knew that native Canadians probably started the canoe making, but a canoe with a sail? Courting canoes with a phonograph on board?

A woman met us at the door and told us a bit about the museum and where to begin our tour. She also told us there was a student questionnaire that if we chose to answer, we would get a discount on anything we bought in the shop. We’d wait and see how our time worked out.

Thus we began with the upper level and the whale hunters of Canada’s Pacific Coast.

The signs were large and easy to read, often showing maps where the canoes were employed.

A canoe with a sail on it. I hadn’t known there was such a thing.

My husband reading the sign by the Eagle Canoe made and used by the Haida

I was impressed by the art work on the canoe and the paddles. They’re works of art. Mind you, it was a pretty large canoe. I don’t remember the exact length. Something like 50 feet or a bit longer.

Here’s a bit of history on the Haida and their life, including the canoes. They weren’t altogether friendly folks, when they raid and take prisoners.

An early birch bark canoe

This map and chart shows a few of the shapes of their bow profiles. The sign says, in part:

… their most distinguishing characteristics are bow profiles. … The condition of the water, whether flowing, tranquil, wave tossed or turbulent is reflected in the design of the bow that sets the canoes apart.

I found this intriguing and had never thought so much about its shape. Some of their information came from Cedar by Hilary Stewart, 1984, Douglas and McIntyre, used by permission. If a person was inclined to learn more, this would be a good source to consult.

We watched a video of native Canadians knitting the Cowichan sweater on Kuyper Island and learned that not all the sweaters sold in stores are hand knit. The women do it to keep up the tradition and as part of a way of life, but they find it an increasingly unprofitable venture as stores bring in machine-made sweaters and often the prices they are paid do not afford them a livelihood with the cost of yarn. Rather a dilemma for them.

The men used canoes to gather supplies they couldn’t get by land.

Rackfuls of canoes, named and cataloged, for visitors to see the various kinds. I didn’t count the numbers of canoes, but there were aplenty of them.

The canoe builders were craftsmen and incorporated designs.

“The making of canoes is an ancient art,” as one of the signs read, but the building continues today. Skilled model builders can be found in the Wooden Canoe Heritage Association. The museum’s desire is to recognize the builders and continuing the tradition.

Jen in the Presentation Area, where they hold workshops. She’s putting kits together for a workshop and she took time to explain some of the programs they offer. They teach classes to children too and how to preserve and add a collection number. One project was a shadow box. Thanks, Jen.

A Mi’Kmaq Winter camp

Then the museum got into the canoes used for trade.

And one loaded with supplies for a journey. Where would the canoeist sit to paddle? Might they have just loaded it to show us what might be carried on a journey? Would a canoe be towed like a wagon?

Hands On Areas

Every so often there was a play area for children to act out the role of a trader or canoeist. This was a puppet theatre and it had puppets stacked on a pole that children could use.

Look at this work of art on a canoe.

and here was the canoe with the sail that I saw on a Trip Advisor recommendation.

As I looked at the sign behind it, a museum staff member said to me, “Farley Mowatt.”

In mid-July when we were in Kawartha Lakes area on vacation, we heard the radio announcer report about the Lakefield Literary Festival. What we didn’t know then was that the event was already happening. Our son-in-law Dave suggested that we (read “I”) might like to attend when we stayed on.

The next day, after a bit of Internet research and a look into the Lakefield weekly paper, the July 11th Lakefield Herald, we learned that the event ran over the weekend and we had missed it. The Lakefield Herald showed a preview photo of Sheree Fitch, children’s author from Nova Scotia, one of many guests who were to attend and read or perform at the festival. Among them were Richard Wangamese, Alison Wearing, local (to Lakefield) author John Craig, Werner Zimmerman and others. A special preview photo of the well known children’s author Sheree Fitch was in the paper. “Hey, I’ve met her before,” in Halifax at the Editors’ Association of Canada conference in 2013 when I was her workshop assistant.

And so we missed the Literary Festival, which was a bit disappointing, but we decided to take a drive there before our return home. After a visit to the Canadian Canoe Museum (another upcoming post) we crossed the bridge, looked around in a new craft shop then crossed the bridge again and wandered around the town near the end of business hours.

Sound of mighty rushing water here

Municipal building, a fine red-brick structure

Another public building, but which one? You can see the kind of sunny day we had.

The municipal building again. See the outlook on top? I don’t know what you call it, but I think it would be a great place to see the land around the town. Has anyone been up there recently?

I loved this stack of cups and pots in the garden. They looked as though they would fall over

And on the other side of the garden, a stack of rocks too, all in a pretty wildflower garden…

in front of this restaurant… or is it a coffee shop. I would have loved to go in this place but we were there near closing time.

Ah, but this shop was not closed, among my favourite kinds of store. Yarn and books at Happenstance on 44 Queen Street, almost across from the pretty garden.

An interesting combination in a shop. Plenty of yarn in many colours and shades as well as shelves full of books. I picked up a list of recommended books, compiled by a store employee. She’s read plenty of books. We asked about the Literary Festival we’d missed and learned that the events were held mostly at the college and a few other public places that had more room for crowds of people.

Judy Caulfield, fellow storyteller, attends this event every year and may know this store quite well. A neat little shop that from our perspective is well run.

While I was there I saw some square knitting needles. The employee, Sue (on the far right on their Facebook photo), said she likes these needles and finds the stitches stay on better. I got a pair for knitting mittens.

The remaining stores would be closing soon and so we headed for the car and drove back to the Grandview Resort where we were staying. Perhaps next year, we can come a little earlier and make it to the festival. I wonder who’ll be there next year.

We’d covered a lot of ground in those few hours and yet there was more to see, the lumberman’s shanty and the mill.

Men from the village sometimes went to work in a lumber camp over the winter to earn extra money for their families. They left their wives and children behind and headed off to the forest and lived in a small shanty with little more than an axe they carried with them. As it says in this sign, that

Canada remained a competitor for the timber market because they were exempt from a heavy British duty.

Informational sign in the shanty at the village

How to sharpen an axe on the stone. One would approach this task very carefully, just as much so as cutting down a tree. No chain saws here. It was all manual labour.

The men at the lumber camp would sleep in bunks like these and hang up wet socks on the line above. There were no fancy closets to hang clothing, and if I remember correctly from the information posted there, the men came with very few extra clothing pieces.

Seeing this shanty and reading about it reminded me of the storyteller Deborah Dunleavy and her story of the Flying Canoe, in which men in a lumber camp were tempted to travel home to their home town for a New Year’s party, and in particular one young man to visit a certain young lady, but I won’t spoil the story for you. The Crystal is the story CD you’d like to hear it. Storytelling at its best.

Out in the field behind the shanty is an old harvester.

And zooming in on the name, you can read who made it.

We took a short snack break before heading on to the mill.

The Lang Grist Mill was owned by the Otonobee Region Conservation Authority. The Quaker Oats Company had some input into restoring the mill for historical purposes.

Exhibits in the mill

Yes, horses were important. They pulled the wagon.

The tools and equipment people used for harvest in the 1840s may seem primitive as compared to twelve-row ploughs and tractors with stereos in them, but they did the job. A lot of manual labour was required. Lest anyone think that a modern farm is easy, there is still need for manual labour.

Another exhibit piece but the sign was cut off. Anyone know what this is for?

A tool to cut straw and corn

There were many other exhibits, models and pictures of equipment used to harvest crops and presses and other equipment to grind the grain into flour. It was important also to keep the dust from the grain to a minimum.

The young man showing us around, whose picture I didn’t get, was very patient with the children who happened to be there at the same time. They asked a lot of questions and he answered them well, demonstrating things that he could. The children had a ride on the cart that took them to the weigh scale. They were surprised by the weight.

Back down the path and looking across the bridge and path. Quite a picture. I took few notes at the mill, but it was interesting nonetheless, and we were ready to go out for a proper meal. It had been hours, but it had been a good visit.

The welcome sign at the village gate

Thank you to Elizabeth King, Administrative and Volunteer Coordinator, for posting my links on the village’s blog and to all the staff and volunteers who make this a living museum. I hope that my posts encourage others to come and visit the village as an option on their summer vacation.